


storybook

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [267]
Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Biblical References, Cannibalism, Character Death, Child Abandonment, Daemons, Despair, Dragons, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Foster Care, Gen, Healing, Heaven & Hell, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Incest, M/M, Magical Realism, Modern Era, Murder, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Near Future, Non-Human Humanoid Society, POV First Person, POV Outsider, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Rape Culture, Reincarnation, Revenge, Royalty, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Stream of Consciousness, Suicidal Thoughts, Witchcraft, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 9,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is going to be an anthology of original drabbles I've written.  Each chapter is complete.  I'll update the tags as I post.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the magic of a wish

**Author's Note:**

> Every chapter will have its own warnings. Also, some of these are literally years old. 
> 
> Title: the magic of a wish  
> Original, PG, 445 words  
> Warnings: references to rape culture  
> Prompt: author's choice, any, Some stories tell of how to slay or even tame dragons, while others tell of how to become dragons.

She listens to the stories told by the fire on the coldest nights, curled next to her brother - legends of great beasts who must be destroyed as they ravage villages and fields, or of great beasts tamed by innocence and then harnessed for the good of the people. There is always a lesson at the end, but she does not listen to that. 

She asks, but once, if people can become the great beasts, and laughter surrounds her, the wise men and storytellers incapable of imagining such things. 

Such is the way of women, she hears them mutter. Weak-willed and confused. After all, who would want to be a beast? 

Even her brother chuckles, gently patting her back. 

They are men, of course. They are already beasts and don't understand the fear that fills her when she walks alone at dusk. 

.

She grows. Taller and fairer, angrier and ever more fearful. She does not like feeling afraid. The stories change into legends of gods and heroes, with no more focus on the great beasts. 

And then come the rumors of a winged monster merely a few days' ride away, and the village panics at the thought of it coming closer. 

She takes a neighbor's horse (for her family has none of their own) and rides. 

.

There is a magic in wishing; she has learned that from stories. 

Women are weak-willed and confused, but confusion is the last thing she feels as she slips off the horse's back and sends him away. 

A creature of wind and fire is billowing its rage at the sky, and she understands what it roars at the heavens. Such has she felt, before, when the miller's boy - 

She had told no one, for none would care, not even her brother. What use is a woman? 

There is a magic in wishing. 

.

Some stories are of slaying the beast; some are of taming it for the good of the people. And there are others, far rarer, never shared, of how truly wishing with all of your heart can turn you into the beast. 

A woman goes missing in a small village, the very same day two dragons attack another village nearby - the dragons must have made off with her. Such a shame, the neighbors say, shaking their heads. Such a shame. 

.

 _I have been lonely_ , the great golden dragon says, ancient beyond measure. 

_I have been afraid,_ the pale dragon says, still learning how to fly. 

_Keep me company,_ the elder murmurs, _and I shall guard you._

The pale dragon trills her gratitude and follows her sister up and up and up, where none can reach her.


	2. In the Deepest Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: In the Deepest Waters   
> Original fairy tale, gen, PG  
> 250 words  
> Prompt: Any, any, when the last of his dreams has died

In time, she'll understand. Her parents angered a _good_ fairy, a creature of starlight and waterfalls. Her parents made a mistake. They'd planned for the bad fairies, but a good one? Such a thing cannot be planned for. 

She was never meant to go near water, and it should have not have been hard. Her parents' realm is in the mountains, and they sent her north to escape the curse.

There are deep lakes, in the mountains. Older than national borders. Older than bloodlines. There are lakes and a fairy’s wrath is vast. 

.

In time, she’ll forgive. There are realms beneath the water and they have magick that the landfolk cannot understand. 

She sinks to the bottom of the lake and she sleeps. She sleeps for centuries. 

.

In time, she’ll walk out of the water. The mountains will be shorter, the lake shallower. She will have magick of her own, though by that point, it will not matter. Fairies live for eons, but the Sea Witch is ancient. 

She dreamt of her bloodline and she is now the very last of all. 

There is a curse attached to a princess, a scared girlchild who did not understand. That girlchild drowned in the deepest lake in the oldest mountains. What is left is the bride of the Sea Witch’s favorite son, with a magick as vast as the ocean and a rage as cold as the depths. 

.

In time, she will calm and thaw and become beloved. 

In time.


	3. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: untitled  
> Original, gen, PG  
> Prompt: any, any, bad ending

There's so much blood. Metaphorically, anyway. Bleeding out but that's the way it goes. 

"Come now, love," that once-beloved voice whispers. "You knew from the beginning, didn't you?" No answer, so again, "Didn't you?" 

And it hurts, perhaps more than anything ever has, to answer, "Yes."

Once-beloved, still-beloved… always-beloved, maybe, and that might be what hurts the most.


	4. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untitled  
> Original, gen, pg, 85 words  
> Prompt: any, any, courage is always easier to muster up in daylight

At night, she forgets. She doesn't mean to -- she clings to the memories as tight as she can, but they always slip through her fingers, fade on the floor. 

Nights are cold. Alone. So very dark. She always knows it's coming, the cold and alone and dark, but no matter how she prepares, how she fights... she shivers and she cries.

All she can do is wait for morning. For the dawn. The moment a single ray pierces the night, she's free again. 

Until dusk, at least.


	5. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Freedom   
> Original, gen, PG  
> Prompt: Author’s choice, any/any, summer rain storm

It comes on fast, the way they always do, sky turning dark, wind blowing in. Fits your mood pretty damn well, work being fucked lately, with all the backbiting and the lies. 

It's stupid, going out for a walk while a storm brews but that _new_ smell is rising, and it's sorta like freedom, like back when you were a kid and it was always so calm once the storm was through. 

What you need now, maybe. A break. So even though there's still three hours till lunch, even though half the cases haven't even been glanced through, even though there's thunder on the air and lightning in the distance – 

You leave everything behind and go for a walk. 

It's getting darker, the wind stronger, and usually, you'd be afraid, if only a little. 

But you're not afraid. You tilt your head back, eyes closed, to let the rain run down your face, to feel the wind, and you open your mouth to laugh and laugh and laugh.


	6. Untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untitled  
> Original, gen, PG, 475 words  
> Prompts: any, any supernatural character, waking up human (and not being too happy about it) ; Any fairy tale/myth, a world where humans are the feared/hated/mythic creatures
> 
> Note: this one could definitely be expanded, I think, but I really have no idea where to go with it.

Katia wakes up and her tail is missing. It's the first thing she notices because she always falls asleep holding onto it, the way she has ever since Mama was killed by hunters. Her tail is gone. 

The world sounds muffled, quiet. She reaches up and her ears are gone, too. 

She feels panic trying to drown her and beats it back -- she is stronger than whatever test this is. Surely, it must be the elders? What else could it be? 

But when she opens her eyes, the room is dim. It should be brilliant, lit up by the sunlight streaming in, but it... 

So she sits up to look around and her _body_ \--

Her fur is gone, her claws. Her teeth are dull, when she touches them with the _hand_ at the end of her arm. Something has turned her into a _hunter_ , stolen her magic and her strength. 

She has to get away before any of the clan see her. They won't stop to ask questions, and hunters cannot Speak the way the clan does. 

Katia takes nothing with her when she leaves. At the edge of the territory, she glances back. Perhaps this is a test or a curse, but she knows exactly what to do. 

She is a hunter now. Maybe if she gets them to trust her, she can begin hunting the hunters from the inside out. 

...

No one's sure where the hunters came from. Mama said they just appeared one day, from deep caverns beneath the earth. Papa said they flew down from the sky in giant machines that breathed fire. Katia's never been sure which she believed. 

For almost a hundred years, no one in her family had ever seen a hunter up close, but Koya got hit by one of their spells when Katia was young; Katia remembers how he howled as Aunt Kiya, Mama's sister, cut his leg off with her sharpest claw. 

The attack was quick after that -- nearly a dozen of the clan died, including Mama, but Papa led them deeper into the sacred valley and ancient magick held the hunters back. 

And now, Katia is a hunter. It's horrifying: the world is so blurry, so muffled. How can the hunters be such good killers when they're so separated? 

She sticks close to the valley for a few days, accustoming herself to the hunter body. She examines it, trying to learn all she can. The skin is pale though lightly furred; nowhere near enough to survive a winter but good for a little warmth, at least. Every part of the body is weak compared to her true form. 

Little is known of the hunters. Anything she learns will be vital. 

Uncle Tian had followed their trail south before returning with the same curse that struck Koya. That’s where Katia will start.


	7. Heaven or Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Heaven or Hell   
> PG, 158 words   
> Prompt: Any fandoms, any, the characters you least expected to see here in Hell

What they don't tell you, when you're scrabbling for a place on the planet and searching for meaning where none exists, is that in the after, you go where you think you deserve to. Hell and Heaven, they're nothing more than names. There's no pearly gates, no lake of fire -- it's all just space in a big fathomless nothing, and what you get is what you believe you're worth. It’s a con, sweetheart. It’s the biggest con of all. 

Unfair, too. Because you get it now, don’t you? In your heart of hearts, you always knew you were damned. Well, guess what? Now you are. And those fuckers who always just knew they’d get to go upstairs and walk on these golden streets because they did God’s work in God’s name – that’s where they are. 

Don’t worry, though. There’s a plan, see, me and a few others.

There’s a system, sweetheart. And any system can be worked.


	8. I praise the fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I praise the fall   
> Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice,"I speak this poem now with grave and level voice/In praise of autumn, of the far-horn-winding fall./I praise the flower-barren fields, the clouds, the tall/Unanswering branches where the wind makes sullen noise./I praise the fall: it is the human season."

If life were a human year, this would be the season of autumn. The weather starts turning cold, leaves drift from the trees to the dirt, and the days lengthen. 

The end is approaching, the day when one year becomes another. When life becomes death, and when death becomes life. It is a cycle. And every beginning was once an end. 

Persephone ate a pomegranate, Eve bit into an apple, Icarus flew too high, and Sammael walked too proud.

Time has no meaning. Seasons come and go, one after the other, from the beginning to the end—except, those are just words. Time is a human construction, the same as a year. 

This would be autumn. This would be autumn, and the leaves fall.


	9. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untitled  
> Gen, 140 words, PG  
> Prompt: Any, any, whatever happened to...

She'll wonder, later, about that boy, the quiet boy who always sat in the back. She'll think about his sad brown eyes, about his down-turned lips, about his always-greasy hair and never-clean shirt. 

But right now, she's got a classroom full of demanding children and the quiet boy in the back... he slips her mind.

.

She'll learn, later, that he slipped everyone's minds.

.

In ten years, she'll see a movie and recognize those brown eyes, but she won't know from where. 

In ten years, she'll flip through a magazine and that name will seem familiar, but she won't connect it to anyone.

In ten years, she'll feel just a drop lighter and won't know why.

.

She'll think, later, _Whatever happened to that boy?_

But she'll have a classroom full of troublemakers and she'll need to focus on now.


	10. let me lay down my gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: let me lay down my gun  
> Warnings: depressing  
> Rating: PG  
> Note: title and prompt from “‘Til the Last Shot’s Fired”   
> Prompt: any, any, 
> 
> Say a prayer for peace for every fallen son  
> Set my spirit free, let me lay down my gun  
> Sweet Mother Mary I'm so tired  
> But I can't come home 'til the last shot's fired

"You know, of course, how this will end," the enemy drawls, standing tall and strong and unbeaten. 

Soldiers die. Ideals live on.

"Of course," the hero murmurs, and lets go.

.

The hero awakens as guns roar and men scream. 

The enemy laughs, as enemies always do. 

Soldiers fight. Soldiers die. 

War is immortal, and there are always more enemies lurking on the horizon. 

The hero takes a deep breath, tightens his grip, and sends up a prayer. 

War never ends.


	11. just like Mama made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: just like Mama made  
> PG, 230 words, intended to be as creepy as possible (not sure I succeeded)   
> Prompt: Any, any, the most exotic flavor of pie they've ever had

"Ethan," Naomi says, cutting him a slice of the freshly made pie. "Sweetheart, come try this. It's my own mama's recipe, quite special." 

Her darling little angel trots over, his teddy bear bouncing along behind him. "'s'good?" he asks, pulling himself onto the chair next to her. 

"The best," she promises, using the fork to portion him off a small bite. 

Ethan takes all of it into his mouth, chewing for a few moments before swallowing. "'s'good!" he says. "More!" 

Naomi smiles down at him and hands him the fork. He makes short work of the rest of his piece, leaving only some juice that oozed out onto the plate.

"Does Bear want some?" she asks and Ethan enthusiastically nods, so she slices Ethan's teddy bear a piece, too. 

Naomi scoops Ethan up for a quick cuddle while Bear stands and gulps his pie down; parts of it stick between his fangs and Ethan giggles at the mess. 

"If you want more pie tomorrow," Naomi says, "you'll need to go hunting again, Bear." 

Bear growls his assent and Naomi lets Ethan down. He grabs Bear and toddles back into the den, while Naomi turns her attention to the mess in her kitchen.

"Oh, don't give me that look, Roger," she tells the last ingredient left, and she pats his cheek. Bear'll be back to finish after Ethan's happily asleep.


	12. flames arising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: flames arising   
> Original sci fi/fantasy  
> Gen, PG  
> Prompt: Any, any, push the button.

It's always there, buried deep in Isazika’s mind. When she's in class, listening to the teacher, taking notes, laughing at Mallory's muttered comments, nodding sympathetically to Darren's complaints, eating the subpar lunch Tate packed (like lunch can make up for taking her away from Mom), riding the bus home and sitting next to Yelena because they live two streets from each other – it’s always there. 

Tate looks at her sometimes like he knows. He probably does. Mom had it, too. 

That’s no reason to take her away. Mom would’ve never hurt her. (Mom couldn’t.) 

Mallory is a smartass and Darren is kind. Yelena is wise, in the way some latchkey kids are. The teachers have no idea how smart Izzy is, or the fact that that’s not her name. Tate calls her Izzy, she’s registered at the school as Izzy, everyone knows her as Izzy and assume it’s short for Isabel or Isabella, but it’s not. Her name is old. 

Her name is legend. 

Tate isn’t short for Tatum either. She doesn’t know his real name, or even Mom’s, but her name is a secret, and the schoolchildren jabbering around her have _no idea_ \- 

It’s always there.

 _Don’t worry, sweetling_ , Mom had whispered, that night Tate found them, with a mark carved into his skin that Mom couldn’t break. _I’ll come back for you. Until then, wait. Bury it all and wait for me_.

Eight years and Isazika is still waiting, in the back of Izzy’s mind. 

Tate looks at her like she’s dangerous, like he might have to put her down. If he tries – 

Well, Isazika is a legend’s name, and those are big shoes to fill. They’ll fit, though. 

Yelena comments on the 21st century history test while Darren complains to Mallory about their literature quiz (some old book called _Harry Potter_ ; Izzy didn’t really like it), and Izzy, as always, plays her part perfectly. 

Mom told her to wait. She still has time. But if nothing has happened by graduation, she knows where to start. 

(Tate’s always watching her, and he has to know.)


	13. endless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: endless  
> Original, PG, character deaths  
> Wordcount: 200  
> Prompt: Any, Any, Reincarnation and remembering past lives

_1_

Daughter of minor lord meets a stableboy. 

Stableboy executed as a thief.

Daughter of a minor lord married to a duke.

_5_

A pickpocket on the streets meets the daughter of a tavern owner.

The pickpocket is actually the leader of the rebels, and she welcomes the tavern owner’s daughter into the fold.

Everyone is executed. 

_17_

A doctor meets a poet. 

The poet dedicates verses to the doctor. 

The doctor dies in a carriage accident. 

The poet drinks himself to death two years later. 

_34_

"We each have a purpose," she says. "And we keep living until we achieve it. You know? Like, there's some goal we have to meet, and until we do, we're sent back, time after time after time." 

"That's either incredibly sad," he says, "or just a bit heartwarming. Eternal second chances, you know what I mean?" 

"Yeah," she says, reaching out for his hand. 

“So, do you think we’ve been here before?” he asks, smiling into her eyes. 

“Probably,” she says. “But there’s also lives where we never met at all. I mean, billions of people… the world’s a big place. But I searched for you. I know that. I’d always search for you.”


	14. garden-born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: garden-born  
> Original, gen, PG  
> 150 words  
> Prompt: Any, any, sometimes, people are worse than demons

"You think I introduced Sin into the world?" the serpent hisses, twining around the tree, flicking that forked tongue to taste the air. "Sin predated me, and shall outlast me." 

A thin, high laugh - then the serpent is gone, and the tree. And there is only a man, standing in a dying garden, until his eyes blink open and he realizes it was only a dream. 

(Was it? Of course it was. 

But he goes walking, in the warm spring rain, and he sees people. For the first time, he sees greed, and arrogance, and rage. 

For the first time, he sees monsters crouched in the back of people’s eyes, monsters looking for a reason. Or making one, if a reason doesn’t show up. 

For the first time, he realizes how much time he spends afraid.) 

There is a serpent, and the serpent is laughing, twined around a tree.


	15. to look at a soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: to look at a soul   
> Original characters in a daemon reality  
> Prompt: Any, any, dæmon AU: as though it wasn't weird enough when that person's dæmon didn't settle in high school, they never expected them to settle as ____

"Holy shit, look at that!" Mark hisses, pushing at Lizzie's shoulder. [Titus](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boyd's_forest_dragon) follows his gaze, nearly falling off Lizzie's head; [Zara](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raccoon_dog) is still crouched between Mark's legs, ignoring everything because she didn't want to come to the reunion anyway. 

"No _way_ ," Lizzie breathes. "Is that...?" 

Mark can't think of a thing to say. Zara heaves a heavy sigh and then begins climbing up Mark's leg. "Hey!" he yelps, reaching down to grab her and then quickly depositing her on his shoulder. 

"Oh," Zara says when she's high enough to see. "Huh."

.

Of course Mark remembers her. Everyone from their class does. She was the only one who graduated with them whose daemon hadn't settled yet. Some days, the daemon (whose name she never uttered that anyone Mark knew heard) was a platypus; others, a tiger. 

No one hassled her; no, it was all jeers behind her back. Comments she pretended she didn't hear. 

She was a quiet girl. Pretty, in a plain sort of way. She wore the same uniform as the rest of them, and tattered shoes. She transferred in junior year with hair shorn close and she let it grow. Never brushed it, that Mark could tell, though Lizzie (of course) had a better eye for that sort of thing. 

Zara settled when Mark was thirteen, after Mom passed. Titus settled a few months later, not long after Lizzie turned twelve. Mark was sixteen, the first time Titus let him stroke along the spine on his head. That same night, Zara butted up against Lizzie's chin. 

By junior year, most everyone was settled. The new girl wasn't. 

(What was her name? Mark can't remember. They called her a lot of things.)

.

“What is it?” Titus asks. 

“I don’t know,” Lizzie answers. She’s a biologist and works at the local zoo, so that’s a little… odd. “A kind of ostrich, maybe? Emu?” 

“That’s not an ostrich, don’t be silly,” Zara says, claws digging through Mark’s shirt and into his skin.

It’s… an [enormous bird](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phorusrhacidae), stalking behind her, eying them all like they’re prey. Like it remembers everything they said. The fear in Mark’s gut is stupid because it’s not like they really did anything bad. No one ever hurt her. 

The daemon had never spoken, not that Mark or any of his friends heard. She’d only spoken when called on in class, which was rare. She didn’t interact, just handed stuff in, shuffled from class to class, ate by herself. A year and a half, and no one ever learned the daemon’s name. It ignored the daemons just like she ignored the humans. 

“Satisfied, Clara?” the daemon asks, focusing those laser eyes on his human. His voice is deep, thudding somewhere in Mark’s sternum. 

“I suppose, Valan,” she sighs. “Don’t know why I bothered coming, anyway. God, I hated high school.” She turns on her heel, the bird neatly sliding to the side, and then they both leave, heads held high. 

“Well, okay then,” Mark mutters. 

“Hey, is that Uriko?” Titus says, standing up tall on Lizzie’s head. “Uriko! Hey!” 

Zara sighs disgustedly and begins climbing down Mark’s back.


	16. Murphy's law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Murphy’s law  
> Prompt: original, original slash, zombie apocalypse

"Oh, fuck," Devon muttered as the gun jammed. Of course, because Murphy is sodding bastard, that's when the alpha noticed him.

Rick assured him that the zombies weren’t sentient, that they were all instinct, but Devon had his doubts, watching the alpha goddamn _grin_ as it clicked some signal to the rest of the pack. 

That was definitely intelligence in its dark eyes and he switched out his piece-of-shit pistol for another. 

This hunt had been a favor for Rick, since his sister had to choose today of all days to give birth, and he would owe Devon about a dozen blowjobs and breakfast in bed for a week, if Devon survived.


	17. first breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: first breath  
> Prompt: any, any, "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." ~Anonymous

She's thirty now, three decades old, and yesterday was her first day of kindergarten and tomorrow she'll be on her deathbed, and how the time has flown.

She hasn't seen Dad in six years or spoken to Mom in three, Robbie moved to Europe and who knows what he's doing now, and Monica told her to get out and stay gone because Dave hit on her and lied about it—and she's thirty now, three decades old.

She stares down at the baby, still nameless. She found him four hours ago, abandoned in the park. She scooped him up as the first snowflakes fell. He cried a little, waving tiny fists. 

He’s beautiful. She’s waiting for the doctors to take a look, and she called the cops, and he seems healthy, to her. He’s so small. 

It’s still snowing, and she turned thirty seven minutes ago. 

“I’ll call you Alec,” she says, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

Maybe tomorrow will be his first day of kindergarten.


	18. eternal life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: eternal life  
> Het, PG  
> Prompt: Any, any, _Hey, what would you wish you'd done before you died?_

She went to the mausoleum yesterday. For the first time this life. She finally remembered, and she went, sat on the grass and looked at the words written across the wall. 

_Beloved son_ , it said, except, no, that wasn't right. He hadn't been beloved. 

And, _in Heaven_ , but no, he couldn't have gotten into Heaven. Not if any justice existed in the world.

Of course, wasn't she proof that no justice existed? If anything was fair, she'd have died a thousand years ago, instead of being reborn over and over, always destined to remember. 

She sat on someone's grave and looked at the mausoleum and was so very tired of remembering.

Then she stood and strode from the cemetery and set about living. She had a few decades, at least, and so many things she wished she'd done before she died last time.


	19. the taste of the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the taste of the sky  
> Original, gen, 340 words   
> Prompt: any, any + any dragon or pegasus character, riding/flying in the moonlight

Skychildren are rare; Etana hasn't seen one of her kind in -- a long time. Not since she left her mother's nest, and that was uncountable ages ago. She has flown the world over, seeking companionship, and though she has visited the Flamechildren in their infernos and the Earthchildren in their warrens, and even spent a turn in the ocean with the Seachildren, she has not seen one of her own in all her days. 

She has had no one to fly with since she was small and it grows lonelier with every rise of the moon.

And then, on a night like any other, she sees something shimmer in the moonlight, wings singing as it rises higher and higher, and she rises to meet it. 

She trumpets a greeting and it laughs, “Well met!” 

Beyond their wings, they have nothing in common. But they spiral around in the moonlight, they race through the clouds, they chase each other to the ground and back. 

As the moon sets and the sun peers over the far edge of the world, Etana and her companion settle down in Etana’s nest. “I am Yvere,” the creature tells her, “daughter of the First Flyer.” 

“I am Etana, Skychild,” Etana replies, tucking herself up small beside Yvere. “You are the first I’ve found who could keep up with me.” No bird has ever managed it. Most of them flee. There was a phoenix, once -- 

“And I, you!” Yvere laughs. She rests her head on Etana’s shoulder. “It’s been so long since I had such fun. Not since I left the herd.” She sighs, wings rustling. 

“Sleep, sister,” Etana tells her. “I’ll guard the sky till you wake.” Skychildren need little rest, and Etana’s excitement will keep her awake, anyway. A companion, at last! 

“I’ll need to feed towards dusk,” Yvere murmurs. “I’ll wake then.” 

Etana hums, low in her throat, and Yvere laughs a little. “Exactly so,” she sighs, and then sleeps. Etana softly trills her mother’s lullaby and cannot wait for the moon to rise.


	20. not all those who wander are lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: not all those who wander are lost  
> Original, PG, gen  
> Title from Tolkien   
> 263 words  
> Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, cursed to wander the Earth, but for them it was never a curse

She spends a year in Vienna, another in Rome, a year and a half in London, in Paris, in Tokyo - she travels to every major city, to all the marvels, to the greatest libraries and museums of Earth. She roams the Amazon, the Serengeti, the Outback. She sees new faces, learns new names, lives a different life every day for a year.

 _You will never have a home, never have a people_ , the god she rejected proclaimed, head held regally high, voice ringing out against the stone. _Wander until you die, and then wander in the afterlife_. 

She kept her eyes on the ground, but her spine straight and her fists unclenched. Her father, the only priest left to honor their god, had gasped, and her mother had wept. But her own eyes were dry then and have remained dry still. 

_However_ , the god added, _should you come to realize your error, say my name and I’ll return to you. If you become mine, the curse will be lifted._

She held her tongue instead of promising _That will never happen._

And so she wanders, with no people and no land to call her own. She has no responsibilities, no duties, no expectations.

She never even thinks the god’s name, and there’s so much to do, so much to see. 

She laughs as the sun rises on another day, thinking, _Thank you for the curse_. Today, she is in San Francisco, and there is a whale-watch tour waiting for her to join, ocean air for her to breathe, another life to step into.


	21. Sirens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: sirens  
> Prompt: Any, Any, It was music they could only hear when they kissed

They had told her it was all in her mind, the music, the song. They told her, from the day she was born, that it was crazy, wasn't real, wasn't there. They told her and told her, every day and every minute, and she believed it. For the longest time, she believed it. 

But now she's here, standing on the shore, watching the ocean. Smelling the salt air, feeling the wind and the sand. Tasting the breeze and the water, hearing the roar. She's never experienced something like this, never ever, and the music is crescendoing in her mind. 

A woman steps from the water, holding out a hand. "Come with me, child," she says, and the music, the music—it swells and breaks, like a wave. "Come with me." 

She takes the hand, letting the woman pull her under, and the ocean consumes her in a kiss.


	22. where the west wind goes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: where the west wind goes  
> Warnings: mentions of mythology and extinctions   
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 180  
> Prompt: Any, any, 
> 
> A world of made  
> is not a world of born

There is a place, somewhere, out in the deepest dark, of magic. That's where the dragons went, and the unicorns, and Pegasus after the Olympians died, and the thunderbirds when the West was won, and the kraken, slick with oil, and Nessie once the tourists came, and everything else that is legend now but once was real.

 _Real_ for a given value of real. Real with no bones to show for it, with no blood left drying, with horses running free, and birds flying high, and monsters at the bottom of the sea that aren’t at all what we thought they’d be. 

There is a place, somewhere, out in the deepest dark, of dream. You can fly there, head thrown back and wings wide. You can sing. There are dragons, and unicorns, and even giant sloths, and megalodons, everything that once was but isn’t anymore. 

We are the real world. We are awake. You’ve never seen a dragon, or touched a unicorn, or swam around a kraken and laughed at his jokes. 

Can you blame me for wanting to sleep?


	23. Good Fairies are not necessarily Nice Fairies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Good Fairies are not necessarily Nice Fairies  
> original, gen, 310 words   
> Warnings for past animal death, cruelty to animals  
> Prompt: Fairy tales, Any, a Fairy overhears someone saying animals don't feel pain the same way humans do, and decides to prove them wrong by changing them into an animal.

Katia hears the man complaining about the litter of kittens his mouser just bore, how he'll have to take time out of his busy day to do drown the useless things, how inconvenient it is that the cat keeps mating. 

"Papa!" a little girl shouts. "Don't hurt the kittens!" 

The man scoffs, pulling out of her grip. "They're just beasts," he tells her, hurrying towards the river. 

The little girl is crying, but an older boy guides her back to the cottage. 

Katia flies after the man, invisible and insubstantial, and keeps pace with him all the way to the water. 

The kittens struggle in the sack; when the man throws them towards the river, Katia catches it gently and carries it to the other side, where she carefully sets it down. The man has already turned away and doesn't notice. Katia summons the mother-cat with a Word of Power and releases the kittens back into her care. 

She watches the man go with narrowed eyes and murmurs another Word of Power -- where there had been a blacksmith whistling there was now a field mouse. Katia sends a Well-Wish to the man's family; they will be fine without him for however long until he realizes the lesson he must learn. 

(And if he never realizes, or if a predator catches him, well... his children will be fine, his wife will be fine, all will be well. Her Well-Wish ensures it.)

“Care for your children, Little Sister,” she tells the cat and then she continues on. There is a princess waiting for her Blessing to the south; maybe she’ll give the girl All-Speech, or Shapeshifting. It is time, after all, that royals again remember how all creatures are connected, and when one Life suffers, so do all the rest. 

“Bless you, Lady,” the cat calls after her as Katia takes to the sky.


	24. Even in your Zen heaven we shan’t meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Even in your Zen heaven we shan’t meet  
> Original, PG, hints of incest, 215 words  
> Prompt: any / any / "My Grandmother's Love Letter" (Pia Douwes)

She finds the trunk during spring cleaning and has Davey carry it down to the den. The attic is too hot to stay in for long. 

Davey complains, of course. He's been doing that a lot lately, like the fact that he finally hit his growth spurt and shot up nearly a foot gives him free license to start disrespecting his mother.

She sends him to scrub down the stovetop while she picks the lock on the trunk. It’s full of papers, paperclipped and stapled and rubberbanded together, yellowed and faded with age. Some are ripped or smudged. They weren’t carefully placed into the trunk; they were shoved in and then hidden away in the farthest corner of the attic.

She sorts them into three piles: _legible, illegible_ , and _holy shit._

When Davey comes back, she sends him out into the garden to help his father. He grumbles but goes.

Her grandmother and great-aunt hate each other. Everyone knows that. She has cousins she’s never met, and her mother had said, once, to never ask. 

The _holy shit_ letters tell her that those cousins might be more closely related than she could’ve imagined, and her mother’s reticence is finally explained. 

She wonders if, somewhere, another woman found a trunk and is thinking the same thing.


	25. oh, I wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: oh, I wish  
> Original, gen, PG  
> Warnings: references to violence; implied rape  
> Prompt: Author's Choice, Author's Choice, wishing well

She hears the wind whisper, _be careful what you wish for_ and it's already too late. 

No takebacks. 

.

She wished that no one she loved would ever die. She's lost her brother and her daughter and her mother -- all she has left are her sister and her father, and legends of a well that hears what the heart wants and grants it, should the wisher prove worthy. 

She is worthy, by however the well measures, and when it is far too late, she is glad that her heart wanted the living to stay alive more than the dead to return from their rest. 

.

Her sister is taken by bandits and survives, but not unscathed. 

Her father is thrown from a horse and stands, though his neck is twisted. 

.

She goes back to the well and she wishes to undo what has been done. "This isn't what I meant!" she rages, her sister sobbing at home and her father in hiding. 

The wind laughs and she is not worthy this time.


	26. the diary of before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the diary of before  
> Original, gen, PG  
> Wordcount: 145  
> Prompt: Any, any, pen and paper.

I don't know who you are, or if you care, or if maybe you're me in 50 years and pulling out all the stupid stuff you wrote when you were young.

I don't know why I'm writing this, what the point is, if there even is a point. 

But - the world's gone to hell and we all might die tomorrow (or right now), and maybe, if I put this down, maybe someone, someday will find it, will read it, and... I didn't even know we had any paper left, and there's even a stack of pens, so that's telling me something, right?

So I'm going to write this, and it's going in the capsule with Mom's pictures, and in the future, whoever you are, you’ll know that we lived, once, that we were here and we were real. 

They came from the north, in the beginning...


	27. ever after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: ever after  
> Original, gen, PG  
> 100 words  
> Prompt: any, any, so much for my happy ending

She attends the funeral in a plain blouse and dark trousers, with her hair up prim and proper. She sits in the back and listens to the mourning. So many people are crying. She does not. 

She joins the procession to where the body will be laid to rest. She waits until the last mourner has left, until the dirt has been poured, until the sun sets, until the moon rises. And then she kneels where there is yet no stone, only a simple marker, and she says, “How’s your happy ending, dear? I told you not to fuck with me.”


	28. invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: invitations  
> Prompt: any, any, like a picture book fairy tale

“Did you send invitations to _all_ the fairies in the realm?” Margaret asks her brother.

“Of course,” Thomas replies, tilting his head imperiously and then quickly reaching up to steady the crown. 

“I shall doublecheck anyway,” she says. 

.

Prince Daniel’s nameday dawns bright and clear. Eighteen fairies have been invited; four sent back notices they would attend. 

Five fairies show up but Margaret had taken great care to ensure that even if twenty-five did, there would be golden dishes for them all. 

The self-proclaimed Mistress of All Evil smiles down at the prince and gifts him with sensing all poisons.


	29. the sky is falling, the sky is falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: the sky is falling, the sky is falling   
> Original, gen, PG  
> Wordcount: 100  
> Prompt: Author's Choice, any, "And God said, 'Let there be light.'"

“This was never the plan, you know,” the angel says. 

The fallen angel scoffs. “Would it have come to pass, if it wasn’t?”

The human sighs. When they both look over, she asks, “So, is God ineffable or isn’t he? Is there a plan or is there not? Did he just go out for a beer one day and never come home?” When they both open their mouths, she gestures sharply. “It doesn’t fucking matter, you dickwads,” she says. “We’ve got a job to do, so let’s get to it, yeah?” 

Outside, the stars are still falling from the sky.


	30. into the woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: into the woods  
> Original, PG, mentions of het  
> 270 words  
> Prompt: Any, any female character, _And I'm sorry, young man, I cannot be your friend/I don't believe in a fairytale end_

“Come, Melena,” he implores, widening those clear blue eyes, face open beseechingly. “We’re destined, you and I. I know you feel it, too.” 

He is the prince of the neighboring realm; they have been betrothed since her birth, merely a year after his.

“I’ll write my own ending, Darius,” she says, “no matter what either of our kings say.”

.

She is gone with the dawn, taking food from the kitchen, a small knife, and the book of spells thought to be hidden in the furthest corner of the library. 

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep; creatures sleep at the bottom of the lake, far out in the sea. Let her younger sister have the crown – Selena has never read the forbidden texts, never tried out any of the spells. She is the daughter Father always wanted. Melena is something else entirely. 

( _Be careful, sweetling,_ Mother had said, her last night alive, while Melena sat with her. _Be wary where you whisper; watch where you step. There is much to do, yet._ ) 

Melena is no man’s prize, and she is no queen. The sun shines above her, and the forest welcomes her. To the east, she hears the sea calling. 

Darius is a good man, and he’ll be kind to Selena, which is more than can be said for most of the princes. 

And if he is _not_ kind to Selena, or Father marries her to someone else – 

A funeral of ravens flies overhead, jeering down at her. She laughs, pulling out a piece of bread. 

Her story has just begun. She alone will decide where it ends.


	31. Eternal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Eternal  
> Original, PG  
> 100 words   
> Any, any + any, forever's not long enough

"You knew," the wind whispers as the last of all living things kneels on ground long barren. 

“You think that makes it easier?” she asks, hands buried in the deadened dirt. Even roaches are gone, have been for – oh, she lost count at somewhere around five thousand twelve epochs. 

“Of course it doesn’t,” the wind says. “Nothing would.” 

She asked for this, ages beyond counting ago. She asked one thing and it was granted. She was so young. Such a fool. To live forever – to outlive everything, even the sun. 

“Shall we go walking?” the wind asks. 

There’s nothing else.


	32. faded stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: faded stone   
> Het, PG, 285 words  
> Warnings for mentions of abuse and death   
> Prompt: Author's choice, the names on the gravestones eventually fade

"Hey," she says softly, kneeling to place a single sunflower on the frosted grass. "Michal left this morning. She promised to call, but she just couldn't live in the house anymore." She laughs softly. "Davya is still seeing your ghost. I've given up explaining that it means nothing, that even if you're still here, it's not her you'd be angry at." 

She stands in silence for a few moments, eyes following the words engraved on the stone. "Ryel is almost as tall as you, now. He doesn't even ask about you anymore. I'm not sure what I'd say, to be honest." She laughs again. 

A quick smile crosses her face before she puts on a solemn expression. "Another year has come and gone, _my love_. Our children are nearly all grown, now. You missed Davya's thirteen and fourteenth birthdays; you know how important those are." She pats the stone. "Our youngest will one be as gifted I am, as my mother is." 

Her laugh is loud, this time, and long. "I'm sure, though, you'd think of it differently." 

She lets a few more minutes pass in silence before murmuring, "When the words on the stone fade, you will be forgotten. None of our children will ever speak your name. My sisters do not; my mother shall not. And never again will it pass my lips. You are nameless." 

She pats the stone one more time. "I bled at your hands; I wept at your rage. You will pay for that, and for our children, and for the god you insulted with my pain." 

Her gaze flicks to the sunflower, already wilted and rotting. "Fare thee well, darling," she murmurs, before turning and walking away.


	33. shadows eternal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: shadows eternal   
> Original/mythology   
> Gen, PG, 195 words  
> Prompt: Any, any, queen of the damned

Once, she had been loved. She was given offerings of fruit and flowers, of songs and music, of dancing. Once, they sacrificed to her those with the greatest potential and her people grew ever more powerful, in the dark. 

But then a new god came to their shores, blown in by a warm westward wind. 

Why worship the dark when there is light blooming? Why indeed. 

But she is not jealous. She does not mourn. When the light fades, the dark still waits, patient. Eternal. For every dawn, there is a dusk – and for every dusk, a dawn. 

The new god is greedy. So very young. He burns brightly… and his fire consumes nations, salivates over bloodlines, burns until there is nothing left. And then he moves on, converting the next and the next and the next. 

The ground is still fertile. She comes in the night to run her fingers through the ashes; there is still life in the dirt. It needs but a song to begin anew. 

Once, they worshiped her with songs. The new god has no time for music. 

She is patient. What burns brightly eventually fades away. The shadows always wait.


	34. much too far out all her life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: much too far out all her life  
> Warnings: suicide  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 380  
> Prompt: Any, any, not waving but drowning  
> Note: the title is an intentional misquote from “Not Waving, But Drowning” by Stevie Smith, which is also where the prompt came from. Also, shades of “Richard Corey” by Edwin Arlington Robinson.

Helena Callows lived a charmed life. Everyone said so. She was the darling daughter of a world-renowned philanthropist and an award-winning poet, the younger sister of an Olympic gold medalist diver and an up-and-coming movie star. Everything she wanted, she got. Everything she tried, she aced.

Helena Callows smiled at everybody she met. She danced with anyone who asked. She wrote poetry (but never as good as her mother’s) and she swam (but never as well as her sister) and she acted (but nowhere near as awesomely as her brother). She made investments, but her father had to bail her out. But she still smiled, and she still danced, and she still planned for the future.

The future. Such an abstract concept, really. Helena Callows was always in the wake of someone else, and was always someone going somewhere, though she didn’t know where – Daddy had a spot for her on the PR team, and Mama had a literary agent waiting, and Sandra had all those athletes just waiting to shake her hand, and Darren had so many contacts who were waiting for her call… 

But Helena didn’t want any of that. She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t want to be in the spotlight, or write, or any of the things her family said she just _had to try_. But she was someone going somewhere, and she was always on, and she’d just graduated from Yale, and Sandra had another medal, and Darren had his first Oscar nomination, and Daddy’s company broke another record, and Mama published another volume – 

And Helena was tired. She was so tired, and only twenty-two. She’d felt breathless for years. 

She just needed a moment. Just a moment to breathe. Somewhere quiet, somewhere still, somewhere dark.

Helena Callows lived a charmed life. She had everything she wanted, and a bright future. You know her father’s name, you’ve read her mother’s book, you watched her sister win a gold, and you saw her brother’s movie. 

But do you know her? No, you don’t. 

Because Helena Callows was someone going somewhere, until she went nowhere fast, and broke all their hearts with the bottle of sleeping pills her father had paid for. 

Somewhere quiet. Somewhere still. Somewhere dark. She just needed to breathe.

She’s not breathing now.


	35. soulmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: soulmate   
> Original, PG,  
> Prompt: any. any. I don't care if the world burns as long as...

Here is what they never tell you: when you meet your other half, everything else falls by the wayside. 

Here is the rest: the search will consume you, if you let it. 

.

It's everyone's dream to find their soulmate, isn't it? Your perfect complement, the pieces that fit with yours, what mends all your broken places. From the moment you realize something is missing, it's all you want. 

That's the problem, innit. 

.

 _i'll travel the world 'til i find you_  
 _won't rest 'til i hold you_  
 _i'll search and i'll search 'til my feet break_  
 _and then i'll search some more_  
i'm yours

.

Everyone knows you're not complete until you find your other half. All the songs say so. The books. The films. Adverts. 

Everyone knows you're half a person till you find your other half. Who wants a half-life? 

Everyone has a friend of a friend who heard about that girl that boy that whoever, you know the one, oh, it's just so sad what happened. And what about the soulmate? That poor girl boy whoever, oh, they'll just be wonderin' for years where their other half went, won't they? Such a tragedy. 

.

Everyone dreams about finding their soulmate. 

Here is what they never tell you: not everyone has a soulmate.


	36. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untitled  
> Gen, PG, major character death  
> Prompt: any, any, /she didn't make it out before the final toll of midnight/ or /the fairy godmother forgot to mention the midnight rule/

The difference between a _good_ fairy and an _evil_ fairy is in the ending. 

.

Once, as the legends tell, there was a fairy who went uninvited to a royal christening. She cursed the babe and the land for a century – and then all was forgotten, for her rage had been sated. 

Another legend tells of a fairy who tested a prince and cursed him when he failed; still another speaks of two sisters, one gifted with jewels falling from her lips and the other cursed with toads. 

Tell me – which is good and which is evil? 

.

There are always maidens wishing to go to the ball. Sometimes, they are peasants, born of peasants; sometimes, they are nobleman’s daughters who fell on hard times. Occasionally, there is magic. 

Her name is Jocelyn, the lovely young maiden crying in the garden. She has but one stepsister, who is equally beautiful; her stepmother is not unusually cruel. But her stepmother knows that Yvette will already have ample competition for the eye of the prince, and Jocelyn has been but a servant in the house for a decade now. 

.

What good fairies do not mention is that magic has a price. 

.

Jocelyn is crying in the garden, wishing with all her heart – 

And then the fairy appears, shining and brilliant, to make all her dreams come true. 

.

One legend mentions midnight, when the magic will fade away. 

Jocelyn is not so warned, for her story has a different end. 

She rides in a carriage that was once a pumpkin, pulled by horses that once were mice, driven by a man who was a lizard, in the most gorgeous gown she’s ever seen that was once rags hanging off her. She enters the ball breathlessly, gazing about in wonder, and perhaps it is her innate beauty that catches the gaze of the prince? Or maybe it is the magic.

Either way, they dance. He dances with none other for three hours. Jocelyn sees her stepmother scowling, sees Yvette dancing with a smile, and she knows that tomorrow she’ll still be a servant, and punished for this – 

But for now, she dances in the arms of the prince. 

.

The clock strikes midnight. 

Magic has a price, even the _good_ kind. 

.

At first, Jocelyn thinks only that her breath is caught because of the prince’s eyes, gazing down at her in wonder. She has, after all, been dancing non-stop for hours. But her breath doesn’t come back. She panics, gasping for air, clutching at the prince’s arms, and once he realizes she cannot breathe, he shouts for healers. 

.

In the garden Jocelyn has tended since she was a child, a fairy smiles. 

Wishes have power and another lovely young maiden’s deepest wish has come true. 

The fairy blows a kiss to the castle, gently strokes the newest ghost tethered to her, and takes flight. 

.

What is the difference between a good fairy and a bad fairy? 

Only how the story ends.


	37. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untitled  
> Warnings: depression, heartbreak  
> Prompt: Any, Any (+/Any) It's not the end of THE world, just the end of his (or hers).

Every morning, she wakes and the sun is still shining. She feeds the cat, showers, cooks and (mostly) eats breakfast, dresses, trudges to her car, drives to work, clocks in, works eight hours (somehow), and then goes home. 

Home, where everything is quiet. The cat makes noise sometimes. She turns on the TV just to hear people talking while she cooks dinner and eats. Feeds the cat. Crawls into her lonely bed. Sleeps. 

Every morning, she does it all over again. 

Time's supposed to make things hurt less, but it hasn't yet. 

Mom told her, and Becca, too, _It's not the end of the world, you know. There's more fish in the sea. You'll find someone else._

But she spent half her life in love, wrapped up on someone else—and someone else just... walked away. Like it was easy. 

She's living now for the day she wakes and the world is in color again. 

So she wakes. Takes care of the cat. Goes to her pointless job and does well. Eats. And again, and again, and again. 

Because the world _didn't_ end. And while half of her life so far has been wasted—well, that's not quite true. Not if she learns something from it. 

So she wakes, checks that the sun is still shining, and decides, _You've taken enough of me_ , deleting the pictures of that face from her phone.


	38. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untitled  
> 183 words, first person narration   
> Prompt: Fairy Tales, The Little Mermaid, she gets back her tail by ripping their throats open and letting their blood drain out into her sisters's waiting mouths.

Now, you listen to me, girl, there won't be no stories about pretty little fish-tailed princesses here, no foolish girl-children dreamin' 'bout them men up on the shore walkin' around. Nuh uh, none'o that here. 

Here, we tell that story right. You still wanna know? 

Well, then, sit down, girl. Sit down and listen good, now. 

You wanna know how the daughter o’the ocean get back home? Wanna know the price of true freedom—'cause that's what the waves are, you know. What the deep is. Ain't no dreamin' of walkin' on the shore with some eye-wanderin' man, no no. Ain't none'a that. That's for those who don't know better, but we, little'un, we know. 

So, I'll tell ya, ya wanna hear. I'll tell you what my mama told me, when I came home talkin' 'bout mermaids, 'bout princesses and voices and dancin' with men what don't respect me as I am. 

Ain't no singin' here, girl. Ain't no true love's kiss. 

But. The choice is yours. Once you hear, you cain't unhear. It's for keeps. 

Well then. C'mon, listen. I'll tell ya.


	39. harvesting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: harvesting   
> Original, gen, PG13  
> Warnings for violence/death  
> Prompt: any, any, hoarding

It started out innocently enough, she thinks, whenever she thinks back. Not often, truth be told. The past isn't a fun place to be, after all. She's long grown, away from that sweet little girl she used to be.

"Oh, do be quiet," she says, wiping her latest plaything's dribble of his chin. "The harvestin' is almost done and then you'll be able to sleep." 

That doesn't calm him. She hadn't honestly imagined it would.

.

Isabel collected owl figurines. Danny collected ballcaps. Mama, God rest her gentle soul, had collected mystery novels. Daddy didn't collect much of anything really, she's fairly sure, but it's not like she actually knew the man. 

Tess collects... well. 

It's a secret, see. Magic. She found it in a very old book in Grandmama's attic, and Tess should probably have ignored it. She'd been so young, then. There was so much she'd yet to learn. So very much she didn't know. 

She has time, now. All the time she can harvest. 

.

That's the thing, see. It's where so many go wrong. 

Children have potential, but potential isn't enough. It's the old ones who are best for harvesting, half a century or more. The _experienced_ ones. 

Time is all anyone has, really. Everyone. 

People watch children. People mourn children. People search for children, and avenge them. But the old ones? 

They're old, you see. It was surely their time.

(It wasn't, in fact.)

.

It has been such a long time... 

And shall be longer still, Tess thinks, wiping up the blood. 

Harvesting is such a messy business.


	40. untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Untitled   
> Warnings: references to violence/death  
> Prompt: any. any. Family means inside squabbling, but always presenting an unified front.

"Hey, Katie-cat," Liza said as cheerfully as she could once her sister finally answered the phone. 

"What's wrong?" Kate demanded immediately. Liza had expected—well, orders to stay away and a quick hang-up. "Elizabeth," Kate said, when Liza stayed silent. "You haven't talked to me in almost three years. Debbie has to carry messages, remember? So you tell me right now _what. is. wrong_?" 

Liza looked down at the floor, which was squeaky-clean after nearly four hours of scrubbing the house top to bottom. "Debbie has an infant," she said after a moment. "I can't... I can't pull her into this." 

Debbie was the middle child, ever the peacekeeper. She was happy and bright, a librarian, married for nearly five years. Debbie was normal, like their father had wanted. Didn't have Mom's... eccentricities. 

Liza had taken to Mom's teachings like she never had anything else, despite stints in volleyball and working for the school paper. Kate had run away at the first opportunity. 

She'd never been sure who cut who out first, but for their parents' sake, they'd pretended for years to still be as close as when they were girls. With Mom and Dad both gone, though, it had fallen to Debbie to make sure everyone knew what was going on in each other's lives. 

Once, Liza had worshiped her oldest sister. Once, Kate had doted on her. 

"Tell me," Kate commanded now. She'd worked her way through two husbands, had no children, had just finished a Ph.D. in mathematics, seeking the normality Debbie had mastered. 

"I need your help," Liza admitted. "I don't know what to do."   
She leaned against the wall before quickly pushing off, because the bastard's screams were still caught in it. "I know we've had our differences," she began, but Kate cut her off. 

"Where are you?" 

Liza took a deep breath. "I don't want to get you in trouble," she started over. 

"Elizabeth Jane," Kate said, cutting her off again. "Tell me where you are right now so that I come help you." 

Nearly thirty years old and her first instinct was still to call her big sister. "I'm in Omaha," she murmured. "I've fucked up. But I can't pull Debbie into this, it'll ruin her life." Debbie with her adorable daughter, Debbie with her terribly boring life. 

"Are you somewhere safe?" Kate asked next. 

His screams were still caught in the walls. "It is now," she said. "I can wait for you here. Are you actually coming?" 

"I'll be on the earliest flight I can get," Kate promised. She hesitated and Liza just breathed in, breathed out, and then Kate said, "I learned, too, you know, even though I hated it. Just sit tight and I'll call you when I land." 

"And you won't tell Debbie?" Liza begged. 

"Of course I won't." Kate sounded almost offended. "I'm the oldest, I'll take care of everything, alright?" 

The floor had been scrubbed clean, the furniture stacked for burning. "I'll wait," Liza said. "Just..." Fuck, she was going to start crying again. 

"Everything will be fine," Kate murmured. "I'll be there as soon as I can." 

"Okay." Liza breathed in, breathed out. "Text me when you land, I'll send you the address." 

"I love you," Kate said. She hung up before Liza could say it back.


End file.
